


Queensmen

by MyRubicon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Humor, I Blame Youtube, I Don't Even Know, Kingsman References, M/M, but no AU, canon-typical use of profanities, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRubicon/pseuds/MyRubicon
Summary: It's the year 2017. Kingsman the Secret Service has been out for a while, and Greg has watched it. Recently he's come across a certain related youtube video, and now he's up to mischief.





	Queensmen

**Author's Note:**

> A bit late for Halloween, but better late than never.
> 
> This story is inspired by the Hacksmith's “Make it Real: Kingsman Umbrella Gun!” youtube video: https:// www. youtube.com/ watch?v=6SaFJLHa-Vk  
> The story makes slightly more sense if you've seen the video, but the title really says it all.  
> If you haven't watched the Kingsman film, I recommend watching this scene before you read my story: https:// www. youtube.com/ watch?v=wtZ6i8MzmBk  
> Three minutes of your life, loads of highly cinematic, superbly choreographed action, a good bit of dark humour and Colin Firth in a bespoke suit. Need I say more?

 

“Gregory?” asked Mycroft, puzzled. “What on earth are you doing?”

Greg blushed ever so slightly at being caught at his strange behaviour. As a matter of fact, he was standing outside in the tiny back garden of their Kensington house, one of Mycroft's old, discarded umbrellas in his hand and a wet heap of glass shards around and behind him. On a small garden table next to him stood a stocky pint beer glass with a handle, filled about to a fifth with water.

“Um... right... just trying something out,” he said. “I'll show you when I'm ready, okay?”

“All right,” Mycroft agreed, looking both mystified and amused. “Do have fun, my dear.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Greg said a little sheepishly as his partner and adored love of his life went inside. Then he went back to practice determinedly. It wasn't going well, but he still had another box full of beer glasses to go through. He looked at the mirror he had set up, hooked the curved wooden handle around the beer glass, then sharply pulled on the shaft of the umbrella and sent the glass flying behind him with gusto. At least he had the correct required amount of speed and force figured out now.

“But how the bloody fuck,” he sighed, “am I supposed to aim with this?”

 

~~~~~

 

“Anthea?”

“It's Christine this week, DCI Lestrade.”

“Yeah, all right. Christine. I've had an idea for Mycroft's birthday. I know it's still four months away, but this gift would have to be custom-made, and I don't really know who to contact, because it's, well, special. Can I send you a link, and could you maybe suggest a business to contract with?”

“Of course, DCI Lestrade. I will do my best to assist you.”

“Thank you. Sending the link now. Well, you can see in the video that it can be generally done, and I think with custom-designed components instead of off-the-shelf ones, the modifications could be much less obvious. And maybe we could change the material to actually make it a little more bullet-resistant. Not like in the film, though, that's clearly cinematic.”

The sound of a soft cough. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Christine. Bye!”

“Have a good day, DCI Lestrade.”

 

“Christine, are you chuckling?”

“Um. No, Mr Holmes. Not in the least.”

“Are you quite certain?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“All right, then. Could you please forward me the revised schedule for tomorrow?”

“Of course, sir. Sending it to your phone now.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Good day, DCI Lestrade.”

“Hello, Stephanie.”

“It's Yvonne this week.”

“Sorry, Yvonne.”

“Never mind, DCI Lestrade.”

“You can call me Greg, you know. I think I've said so before.”

“Several times in fact, sir. I am ringing to inform you that I have just sent you a copy of the cost estimate to your phone for your little project.”

“Thank you. Ah, here it is. Oh.”

“There is a less costly option, of course...”

“No, no, it's fine. I want him to have the best possible version; I just hope he'll like it.”

“If I may venture a personal opinion...”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Mr Holmes is a man who already has everything he desires, and thus is extremely difficult to shop for. Your gift takes his personal preferences into account, is humorous and still astonishingly useful. Mr Holmes would automatically adore anything you gave him simply because it was a gift from you. This, however, I believe he will enjoy on its own merit. Also, a bit of playfulness every once in a while does him a world of good.”

“Thanks, um, Yvonne. Really, thank you, this means a lot.”

“It was my pleasure, DCI Lestrade. Shall I place the order, then?”

“Please do, and can you have it delivered somewhere not at home or the Yard? I'd like to see it when it's finished, of course, but I'd also like to keep this as a surprise, and the only way to surprise a Holmes is by keeping things as far away from him as possible.”

“Of course, sir. I shall think of a safe location and place the order personally. It's best to leave no electronic or paper trail in a situation this delicate.”

“Thanks again; you're honestly the best, ah, Yvonne. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Perhaps you could help me out with an idea for a difficult gift or two in the future. If anything, you are creative and well able to think outside the box, DCI Lestrade.”

“It sounds like a compliment, but somehow, I'm not certain.”

“Sir.”

“Is that a yes, sir or a no, sir?”

“Just sir, sir.”

“Oh, well. I'll be at your service; just take care those gifts don't start a war.”

“Yes, DCI Lestrade. Do have a pleasant day.”

 

“Yvonne, are you hiding something from me?”

“No, Mr Holmes. Never.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Gregory, have you been at MI6 today?”

“Ah, yes.”

“At the shooting range?”

“No comment, light of my life.”

“Don't use those eyes on me, Gregory. What on earth would you do on MI6's shooting range?”

“Sorry, my heart's desire, but you're not cleared for that.”

“I'm not...! Gregory, I have a priority ultra clearance.”

“I'm aware, my one true love, but I really, really can't tell you now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, you don't have to raise your eyebrow at me. You'll find out soon, I promise, Myc.”

“Shall I like it?”

“I think you will.”

“It doesn't have anything to do with Sherlock, does it?”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“What a vicious grin, my darling. I believe under those circumstances, I can wait a while.”

“Thanks, love. You won't regret it. I hope.”

“Does it by chance have something to do with my birthday?”

“You're not cleared for that, brightest star in my sky.”

“Ha, it does! Have you by chance arranged for some adventuresome outing for us?”

“Mycroft Holmes! You're not getting anything out of me!”

“I highly doubt that. We have our methods, you see, and you, my dear sir, are entirely at my mercy now.”

“Ooh, I love it when you go all powerful and menacing on me. Do your worst.”

“I'd much rather do my best.”

“That's good, too. Very... very... good...”

 

~~~~~

 

“Ah. It's an umbrella.”

“I had it custom-made especially for you.”

“Yes, dear. It is a particularly nice umbrella. Thank you.”

“No – wait! You can't open it yet, love. You have to see the instructional video first.”

“Do I? How intriguing.”

“I certainly hope so. Come along, dearheart.”

 

“Gregory, is this a clip from that absurd film you made me watch two weeks ago?”

“You said you found it amusing.”

“Oh, please, don't turn those sad eyes on me, my dear, you know all too well I cannot resist them. Yes, I admit it was quite entertaining, but what does it have to do with... No, certainly you cannot have!”

“Don't tell me you didn't find that particular piece of equipment intriguing, light of my life.”

“Well, admittedly I did, but this is highly cinematic.”

“Yes, but not entirely impossible.”

“It simply cannot be bullet-proof, Gregory.”

“No, unfortunately you're right about that, Myc. The canopy is made of a new, experimental fibre, though, something with kevlar and spider silk, if I understand correctly, and at least it's bullet-resistant. And it keeps out the rain rather well, too.”

“Quite amazing, I admit. But certainly the gun feature is impossible.”

“Well, it just works with soft air. You have to take off the ferrule before you fire – see, you twist it like this, and off it comes – and you can load metal or rubber slugs, or darts into the handle. It would be hard to kill someone with it, I guess, as long as you avoid the eyes or soft tissue with major blood vessels or, say, the trachea. Think of it as a permanently enabled stun setting. The range isn't all that long, but the umbrella is amazingly accurate, and you can always use poisoned darts.”

“Fascinating. But surely, the transparency feature is nothing short of science fiction.”

“Actually, it isn't. It works with a tiny but pretty accurate camera attached to the side of the end, you see, and a very small but effective projector on the inside. The inner canopy becomes a projection screen, and you can see everything that's going on on the other side of the umbrella. You can switch it on and off with a tiny button in the handle, see, here. And this is where you press to fire when the safety is off.”

“Amazing. And an excellent point with the safety.”

“Bloody necessary feature, that. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt by accident, of course.”

“And not by accident?”

“Well, that's entirely up to the British Government, my love.”

“Very laudable. But, surely the launched taser bola...”

“Well, yeah. We couldn't make that work, sorry.”

“Don't look so glum, my dear. This is wonderful!”

“Really, Myc?”

“Yes, darling dear, really. Let's watch the, ahem, instructional video again! And then, can we try out the umbrella's functions in the garden?”

“Of course! I've even set up a target for you outside. Oh, I'm so happy you like it, love.”

“I truly do. This is something entirely unexpected, and, dare I say it, fun. Thank you sincerely, dear Gregory.”

“You can thank me by letting me play with it every once in a while, my brightest star.”

“But only for a little while. It's mine, and I'm not giving it up.”

“Of course not, my own heart.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Gregory?”

“Yes, my dearest and most adored one?”

“I definitely need to take up martial arts again.”

“Can I join you?”

“But only because I love you so much, my dear.”

“And thank Christ for that.”

 

~~~~~

 

“That was, even if I say so myself, a clear success, DCI Lestrade.”

“Thanks again for your help, Hippolyta. I'm already thinking about next year. Pity that Mycroft doesn't wear wristwatches.”

“No, but he does, on occasion, put on reading glasses. And, sir, it's Anthea this week.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Gregory, we are invited to Sherlock's and John's annual Halloween Party again.”

“Don't overwhelm me with your enthusiasm, my heart.”

“And they have requested all guests to attend in costumes. How tedious.”

“Sounds like fun!”

“Honestly, I am not going to put on something ridiculous and humiliating just to give Sherlock more ammunition for his insults.”

“Wait! I know just the thing, love. You could even wear a Savile Row three-piece suit, although, to make it authentic, it would have to be made by Huntsman.”

“I prefer Gieves & Hawkes.”

“I know, love of my life, but think of it. Three-piece suit, umbrella. And, well, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. You could even take your special umbrella with you. Oh, yes, this is the devious smile I adore!”

“All right, Gregory. Let us do this. You and I, Kingsmen.”

“Wouldn't that be the Queen's Man in your case, my beloved?”

“Oh ha ha.”

“I think it's funny.”

“Clearly. But I shall have my revenge, blackguard!”

“Oh yes, please...”

 

“Mycroft...”

“Stop complaining, dearest.”

“But I hate being fitted for clothes.”

“How was that common phrase again? Ah, yes. Tough luck, mate.”

“Welcome, Mr Holmes, Mr Lestrade. You are here for a fitting of our Kingsman line?”

“What gave it away? Our appointment?”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Gregory.”

“Stop smirking, Mycroft. That does not become you, either.”

“You know, suddenly I don't detest Halloween quite so much any more.”

“Gentlemen, if you'd please follow me?”

 

“Now, now, my dear, that wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Ah, but love, you know how I hate it when strangers fondle my thighs and get far too close to my precious manly bits with sharp needles. Only you're allowed to do the first, and as to the second, well, no. Just no.”

“But think of how magnificent you will look in that bespoke suit, my dear.”

“And this was only the first fitting! I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Positively edible, in fact, so I find myself rather glad you didn't, love.”

“Oh, all right. Flattery will get you everywhere. Let's go and practice some more Aikido, yeah? We may need it soon.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Honestly, Mycroft, couldn't you be bothered to actually put on a costume? And that ugly pair of glasses doesn't count,” Sherlock uttered, vitriolic as ever. “It fits your equally ugly face far too well for that. Although forcing poor Galahad to look as stuffy as you always do for an evening does add some amusement value.”

“Gawain, please,” Greg drily corrected him.

Sherlock gave him an irritated look and raised his eyebrow. “Begging your pardon?”

“I'm Gawain,” Greg repeated and gestured towards the splendidly dressed man next to him. “ _This_ is Galahad.”

John grinned at the two of them; clearly, the penny had dropped. “Can I be Merlin? Please?”

“I wanted to be Merlin,” Greg said, “but I didn't feel like shaving off my hair. Would you shave off your hair, John?”

“And a pair of frankly despicable glasses are going to turn you into Arthurian knights?” the younger Holmes scoffed, ignoring the banter.

“It's a popular cultural reference, Sherlock,” John explained with a grin, “and an impressively well-done one at that.”

“It must have been horridly dull and insipid for me to have deleted it in the first place. Apparently, it is right up your alley, though, brother dear,” the detective taunted.

For a moment, silence reigned.

“Manners,” Mycroft coolly said as he turned around and closed the door with a carefully controlled snick.

“Oh, piss off, Mycroft,” Sherlock hissed.

“Maketh,” his older brother continued, undeterred, as he turned the key in the lock with an audible click.

“Fuuuck,” John said under his breath, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

Sally Donovan and Michael Dimmock started grinning widely. Sherlock was looking puzzled.

“Man,” Mycroft finished as he spun back around smoothly with the grace of a great jungle cat – or a man trained in martial arts. “Do you know what that means?”

Molly smothered her delighted giggle behind her hand; Mrs Hudson didn't bother to.

“This is not your usual umbrella, Mycroft,” Sherlock observed, suddenly sounding cautious. “Greg has your typical model.”

“It's Gawain!” Greg protested with faux indignation, trying to hide his grin. Trust the contrary bastard to remember his name the one time he wasn't using it. “Try to keep up.”

“The umbrella you are currently carrying has a different handle, weight, balance,” Sherlock went on, ignoring Greg, “and a canopy made of a different material.”

“Oh, very well done, brother mine,” the older Holmes sweetly commented with his Creepy Smile No 4, the one that seemed kindly on the surface but tended to feature in the nightmares of its recipients later. He was rather proud of it.

Greg watched him with an indulgent, loving smile and shining eyes.

“Now, are we gonna stand around here all day?” Mycroft asked in his beautiful, cultured tenor with his most precise diction.

“Or,” Greg added without missing a beat, “are we gonna fight?”

The two elegantly dressed men in their bespoke suits and horn-rimmed glasses smiled at each other briefly, mischievously, firmly gripped their umbrellas and faced the room in a combat-ready stance, together.

 

 

~Finis~

 


End file.
